


untitled

by creivel



Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2557442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creivel/pseuds/creivel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Confronting a topic that had long been avoided.</p>
            </blockquote>





	untitled

They don't talk about Manolo's death.

Or, if anything, they _avoid_ the subject at all costs, and mostly for Joaquin's sake (he is a lot stronger now, much more than the facade he put on in the past, but the loss of both of his closest friends in one morning was too much, still). Maria puts on her largest smile and drags them both through San Angel, striking up conversation after conversation as though making up for lost time while they make their way through the streets. They talk for hours about Spain, about Joaquin's many adventures, about Manolo's years of reluctant practice in the ring (never once daring to harm a bull, much to Maria's pleasure).

The moon breaks over the horizon and they are tired from their outing, their throats aching from mutual laughter. It's almost as if Maria never left, as if the trio remained inseparable and none of the attacks on the town has occurred within the last week.

Almost as if no one had died.

Joaquin is an embarrassed mess when Maria invites him to stay over at Casa Sanchez, but even Manolo approves of the idea wholeheartedly. (“We're not children anymore!” He protests, “Ustedes dos-- dios mío! I can't simply--”)

Manolo is laughing along with Maria, but the sound is amplified in his ears, and if he listens closely enough he can almost hear his father chuckling in exasperation at the children as he did when they were young. His heart lurches when he imagines him and his mother finally together in death, enjoying the endless joy of the Land of the Remembered. What a sight that had been--

“Manolo? What's the matter?” Maria asks suddenly, and Manolo's train of thought is abruptly cut silent. He looks over at the two, both staring back in concern.

“I, what?” Manolo says, blinking sharply. “I must have been lost in thought for a moment, perdón.”

The two appear unconvinced, exchanging worried glances, and Maria steps forward to wrap her hands around Manolo's arm. Joaquin shifts uncomfortably, avoiding Manolo's gaze.

“Mi amor,” Maria begins softly, “you've been... a bit distant in the last few days. Are you really alright, after everything that's happened?”

Manolo suppresses the urge to pull away from Maria, to turn defensive, and instead stands his ground and smiles as earnestly as he can manage.

“I am fine! I promise you, I really am. Better than fine, actually. It's just...” he trails off, breathing deeply, taking a moment to find the proper words, “there's been so much to take in, in such little time. It almost doesn't feel real, to be back.”

He realizes the mistake too late, and Manolo feels his stomach plummet when Joaquin pales and Maria withers in place. That's right, he was truly dead, wasn't he? In his despair, he left his two most precious friends behind and in pieces.

“I... forgive me, I didn't mean to bring up--” He tries, but Maria shakes her head at him and waves a hand stiffly.

“No, no, Manolo, you don't have any reason to apologize. It was you who had suffered the worst, and I failed to protect you, in the end.”

“That's not true! Mi amor, you did save me from the snake, but then I,” Manolo's voice breaks, and he meets Joaquin's gaze. The tension in the air is nearly palpable, and the cloud of guilt radiating off the large man is enough to nearly send Manolo over the edge.

“I wasted your sacrifice.” His voice is quiet, nearly a whisper, and Maria stares at him in confusion. Her grip on his arm tightens drastically, as if she's afraid of losing him once more, and Manolo wipes his free hand down his face, holding it briefly over his mouth.

“What are you talking about?” Maria demands, the panic in her voice rising. “The snake bit you too, it--”

“I wished for it to happen. I made a deal so that I... I would at least be able to meet you in the afterlife.”

Maria recoils in horror, covering her mouth with both hands. Tears threaten to spill at the corners of her eyes, and she nearly shouts, though her voice is muffled, “You killed yourself?”

Joaquin's knees buckle, and he reaches out to a nearby wall to support himself. He is mumbling something into his gloved hand, countless apologizes and swears. Manolo wants to say something, anything, to soften the blow, but he knows the truth is something he cannot try to lighten, no matter how much he wants to.

“I wasn't thinking,” he says quickly, “Por favor perdóname, I wasn't thinking clearly. So much had happened and I was distraught. When you died, I thought I had lost _everything_. I am so, so sorry.”

Manolo doesn't see the slap coming, but when the white clears from his vision he's left with a Maria shaking with sobs in front of him, her hand held out and tinged red. He touches the tender mark on his cheek, closing his eyes and allowing the incoming wave of guilt to consume him.

“How dare you, Manolo Sanchez!” She cries, “That isn't like you at all, to give up so easily!” Despite her anger, she nevertheless throws herself towards Manolo and clutches his coat tightly, weeping into his chest. He holds her, as it's all he can do, and buries his face into her hair.

Joaquin regains his composure, for the most part, and stands back up straight. His shoulders are drawn tight, and when he look back, Manolo can see pain clear as day in his expression.

“I didn't mean it, what I said,” Joaquin says, his eyebrows furrowing, “Manolo, I am so sorry for the things I said to you. I would take them all back, if I could.”

“I said some horrible things as well,” Manolo responds, his hand slowly rubbing circles on Maria's back. “I already forgave you long ago, my brother. There was never any question. If you could pardon what I said as well--”

“Of course I forgive you. Of course...” Joaquin nods, forcing a small smile. “I'm so glad you're alive, mi amigo.”

“So am I!” Maria pipes up, lifting her head and rubbing an arm across her eyes to wipe her tears away. “I'm angry with you, yes, but-- but I'm still so happy you're here.”

Manolo laughs lightly, “I'm glad to be here. There's no where else I'd rather be. I won't be leaving again.”

Maria looks up at him, sternly. Her face is flushed, the remainder of her tears drying up in the corners of her eyes.

“I'm holding you to that, Manolo! You aren't allowed to go anywhere else, not where we can't follow!” She pokes his chest with a finger, and he smiles fondly at her.

Joaquin steps forward, slapping Manolo on the back. He jumps, startled, but is put at ease quickly when Joaquin and Maria wrap their arms around him, enveloping him in an embrace (he doesn't realize he's holding his breath, and releases it in relief, shoulders sagging).

They're silent for a moment, cherishing the moment, and Manolo relaxes finally into his friends' arms, stress lifting from him like a fog clearing.

“I promise,” he says, and knows he means it with every bit of heart he has.


End file.
